


Link's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom, Getting The Girl, and Making Parties Interesting

by mynameisraj



Category: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity (Video Game), The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Age of Calamity Spoilers, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Oneshot, Pure Crack, fuck king rhoam he can choke, i love urbosa, i lovingly shit on revali, i used my good writing skills for the first ninety percent of this and then it's crack, it seems fluffy at first but its crack, john mulaney - Freeform, link's love language is food, no I will not elaborate, postgame, very short work but i'm here for a good time not a long time, zelda's birthday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28442196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisraj/pseuds/mynameisraj
Summary: The first words Zelda ever heard Link say out loud were, 'THAT'S MY WIFE!'
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Urbosa & Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 142





	Link's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom, Getting The Girl, and Making Parties Interesting

“Well,” said Revali when it was over, “Suppose we can throw a nice little garden party to celebrate. With tiny sandwiches.” 

“We just defeated _Calamity Ganon_ and you want a _little sandwich?”_ asked Daruk, who was not quite on board with sarcasm yet. 

“Why not?” Urbosa rounded on Revali with a glittering eye. “It’s the princess’ seventeenth birthday, after all. I think she deserves a better party than that swine gave her. And it would only be proper for _all_ the Champions to attend, wouldn’t it?”

Revali scowled. Zelda, who was big on both tiny sandwiches and having parties outside, practically squealed. 

“Oh, Urbosa, really? But my father…”

Urbosa raised an eyebrow. “Little bird, after what your father said to you at the castle, I don’t intend to quarter any more of his preferences about _your_ life.”

Link put a hand on her shoulder. _Happy birthday,_ he signed. Zelda tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and flushed, looking down at her ruined sandals, where a scrabby bunch of nightshade was blooming in the grass. 

“I think I would like that very much.” 

～

The Gerudo captains had spent an afternoon braiding garlands of saffina to hang from the gazebos, draped above the blooming hydrangea and the sweet-smelling honeysuckle trailing up the castle walls. The castle itself looked ‘a bit secondhand,’ as Revali had put it, being covered in scaffolding and clogged with stone wagons and masons’ tents, but a few of the fountains on the lower levels were still working. There was someone playing the flute, groups of builders dancing in patched boots, one of the kitchen dogs thrashing deliriously in the grass, thistle and apple sandwiches, egg tarts, lemonade, a small regiment of castle guards mercilessly teasing Link, a chair made of a slab of luminous stone for Daruk, who had strategically positioned Urbosa between himself and the dog, and Zelda was wearing her field clothes instead of her scratchy formal dress. It was a perfect birthday. 

Mipha was the only one not there; Zora’s Domain had been hit hard, and she wanted to go see her brother. There seemed to be something else as well, but Zelda didn’t pry. She still wasn’t sure how to talk to Mipha, though the resentment she’d once carried for the Zora princess was long gone. She hoped they might be friends one day, one day when they both had fewer towns to rebuild and families to console, a little less lost sleep to make up for. 

The best part of her seventeenth birthday party was when Link had shown up fifteen minutes late barely managing a six-tier fruitcake taller than he was. It was studded with voltfruit and wildberries, sprinkled with pearl sugar, and topped with roughly fifty sputtering, snapping sparklers and one live firework that frightened Revali out of his seat when it rocketed into the air, exploding over the castle in the six-pointed shape of a Silent Princess. 

“Link!” Zelda exclaimed, ears ringing. “You made this! Oh, it’s wonderful!”

Link wiped whipped cream off of his nose. _I made the cake. Not the firework._

“I did that part!” Robbie announced, as if anyone would think otherwise. 

Link brandished a knife and cut a thick slice of cake. He carried it over to her and held it out, his eyes cast aside.

“Thank you, I– when did you find time to make this?”

 _This morning. The other knights helped. I wanted there to be enough for everyone._ When she took the plate their hands brushed. She let her fingers twitch over the sword calluses on his thumb, so that it might seem an accident.

“Link, it was– it was very thoughtful of you. Tremendously thoughtful, and to make enough for the entire castle, I really, you slew Calamity Ganon not four days ago. You didn’t have to.”

 _Yeah._ He blushed, or maybe she was imagining it. _I wanted to,_ then, _Try it._

She picked up a dessert fork from the table and took a bite. The sponge was light, tasting of honey and rum, the wildberries fresh from the garden. Zelda couldn’t help throwing her head back and groaning in delight. 

“Link!” She cried, mouth still full of cake. “Link, it’s amazing!”

A slow, brilliant grin spread across his face. Zelda’s understanding of his way of speaking wasn’t perfect, but she understood him better than she felt she understood most people. At first she thought that he was mute, but now she’d heard him laugh, shout in pain, hum to himself as he stirred the broth for their supper: she knew the pitch and quality of his voice, knew what songs he liked to whistle; but she’d never heard him speak. Perhaps it was unfair to wish he would. It was his voice to use, after all, if he didn’t wish to talk out loud she shouldn’t expect him to. His laughter when Daruk told stories, his shy smiles, the contempt on his face when he dragged her away from her father, holding her hand gently enough that she could pull away if she wanted, these were enough. It was enough that they had survived, that she’d been able to save him. Maybe there was another sort of sign between them, a language where things that seemed unsaid had been made plain already. Zelda shifted between expressions and the beginnings of sentences, unsure of whether she should smile or look away, or take his hand. 

That of course was the moment that a circle of glowing runes appeared in midair, Impa snatched at the hilt of her kodachi, and a Yiga blademaster appeared in the middle of the party, his windcleaver already pointed at her. He cracked his neck to the side, his shadow falling over her chair. Zelda reached for the Sheikah Slate. 

“Princess,” he growled. “This is for Astor.”

Before he had moved his sword more than an inch, Link wound up and bodyslammed him ankles-over-ridiculous-tufted-hood directly into the fountain, grabbed a kitchen knife, and screeched, in a voice hoarse from seldom use, “THAT’S MY WIFE!”

It was dead quiet at Zelda’s birthday party. Even the Yiga blademaster lifted his soggy head from the fountain and disappeared. From the way Link had frozen as soon as he said it, it looked like he wished he could do the same thing. Impa dropped her cake onto the grass, where the dog snatched it up, oblivious to Zelda’s general inability to breathe and the fact that Link’s ears were trying to invent new shades of red. The knight-captain looked as if he’d lost his ability to wolf whistle. One of Zelda’s ladies in waiting leaned over to whisper in another’s ear but was at loss for words. 

Revali leaned back in his chair. “Well, Urbosa, I owe you ten rupees.”

“You owe me a hundred rupees, you skinflint.”

“Was that a proposal? I couldn’t tell,” whispered the lady-in-waiting. 

“Son,” said the knight-captain kindly, “Would you like a slice of cake?”


End file.
